People need to have more support for moms and fewer empty compliments for dads.

If you’re familiar with my writing and my unyielding advocacy of involved fatherhood, that sentence probably left you blinking in disbelief. “Did the guy who will never shut up about the importance of dads just say people need to compliment mothers more while praising dads less?” Yes. That’s what I’m saying. And no, I’m not crazy and this isn’t an impostor. Just hear me out.

When I’m out alone with my boys at the playground or a store, I am bombarded with compliments from total strangers. I’ll admit, it felt really good at first. So many people were coming up to me and telling me what a good dad I was, I felt like Superman. I don’t care who you are, it’s nice to hear a compliment. And when they come in waves and involve your children and parenting skills, it’s that much sweeter.

And then one day I saw her.

I was at a playground with Will (Sam wasn’t born yet) and was the only dad there. As usual, I was basking in the glow of all the compliments from the moms telling me what a good dad I was for being out with my kid by myself. Then I saw two kids, maybe 5 and 3 respectively, bolt by me and chase each other around the base of the playground. I could tell they were brother and sister immediately because of the bickering, which was growing louder by the second.

I looked over at the park bench and saw a clearly exasperated mom craning her neck to see where her two bickering progeny had gone. She had her hands full at the time because she was trying desperately to get her baby to latch for a mid-morning snack. Meanwhile her two oldest reached a fever pitch across the playground over the toy they both wanted, and it culminated with the older brother pushing his sister. She fell to the ground unhurt but crying, with the brother shouting at her to stop crying because they’d both get in trouble.

The mom was red-faced and hissing the names of her two kids in an effort to get them to stop. Meanwhile the jostled baby was having trouble feeding, and he/she (I couldn’t tell and it doesn’t really matter) also began wailing. I remember the “I’m at the end of my rope” look of temporary helplessness on the look of the mom. I also recall the other moms raising their eyebrows and rolling their eyes, as if to silently say “Geez, get control of your kids lady.” I remember wanting to go over there and offer to help her, or at least tell her we’ve all been there and she’s doing a great job. But for some reason, I didn’t. And now I’ll always remember regretting that.

That day made me realize something important, which is all the compliments I received from strangers regarding my parenting were actually anything but.

I’m not doing anything special when I’m out with my kids. I’m literally just walking around, getting my errands done, and hoping they can play without killing themselves or each other — same as every other parent. The reason I’m complimented is solely because I’m a dad out with his kids alone, and therefore kind of a novelty. And that sucks. It sucks for dads AND moms.

While I’m 100% confident no one has any ill will when complimenting me, I have NEVER seen a mom in the same situation with her kids receive similar kind words. Why? Because parenting their kids is what moms are expected to do.

If we truly want to move toward being equal partners in parenting, that has to change.

Dads shouldn’t be singled out for praise simply for basic parenting 101. If we accept those compliments while mothers get no public support for the same tasks, we’re automatically erasing the level playing field. We’re saying raising kids is a mom job that dad helps out with every once in a while. We’re patting dads on the head for nothing more than completing the basic job requirements of parenting. That belittles fathers and ignores mothers — a dual disservice.

That’s why now, when I see any parent struggling to keep up with their brood, I take the time to stop and tell them we’ve all been there. There are good and bad days. But either way, they’re doing a helluva job.

It’s not much and it takes so little effort, but sometimes a kind word and some reassurance — even from a stranger — is enough of a lift to get through the day. Small actions often have gargantuan positive repercussions, so next time you’re out and you see someone struggling, throw her a compliment.

And while complimenting a dad with just cause is always worthwhile, please stop doing it just because we’re out with our kids. Despite your best intentions, it ultimately comes off as patronizing and does a disservice to dads and moms.

Let’s work to support all parents, because you never know when a random kind word will make all the difference.

*******************

I was compensated by Similac for the “Sisterhood of Motherhood” campaign (#SisterhoodUnite), which aims to unite all parents in a judgment-free zone. But as always, all thoughts and opinions are my own. I hope you enjoy this fantastic video Similac developed that shows we’re all #ParentsFirst when it comes to raising our kids. You can visit Similac’s website or go to its Facebook page to learn more.

Look, I wasn’t too fond of Valentine’s Day before I got married and had kids. It’s a contrived, ostentatious “holiday” that does nothing but set impossibly high expectations and create an atmosphere conducive to crashing and burning when the bar isn’t met.

But it doesn’t stop most people from trying.

When I was sans children, I definitely tried to put the saint in St. Valentine’s. I was flowers, jewelry, expensive dinners, and handwritten poetry. Rhyming poetry. In fact, one poem I wrote to a girl started with “On this day of St. Valentine, I’m oh so happy you are mine.” Yup, that’s right. I won’t go so far as to call myself a stud, but yeah — pretty much a stud when it came to Feb. 14 romance. Anyway…

MJ and I were like most couples before they have kids. We were attentive, passionate, and we couldn’t imagine a scenario in which stepping on a LEGO could be an injury that lands us on the sexual injured reserve list (and by us I mean me). We were young, hot, and could choose to spend Valentine’s Day weekend in a tropical paradise if we wanted.

But as kids arrived and time slipped past us, things have most assuredly changed.

As most parents will tell you, children bring a ton of joy to your lives. However, they also have a tendency to bring about the death of romance, sex, and yes — Valentine’s Day. If you’re a parent, these before and after descriptions might have you nodding your head in agreement. If you’re an expectant parent, you might wonder what the hell you were thinking. And if you’re a hot, young, fancy-free couple who gets to have Valentine’s Day sex without using SpongeBob as a distraction, I hate you. And stop judging me.

*******************

Before: You probably went the first year without farting in the other person’s presence. You held it in and put yourself through gastrointestinal torture just to preserve the romance and aura, only releasing the horror outside after you two were finished watching The Notebook and promising to be just like Noah and Allie (yeah I watched it, so what??) forever.After: Someone just ripped a horrible, nasty fart and now the scent is wafting through the air like a WMD. Also, you don’t even know who it was. Partner, kids, or the dog. For a second you actually have to think about whether or not it was you. Because life with kids is one noxious scent after another, and you can’t help but think how much of a prick that Nicholas Sparks is for his damn, dirty lies.

Before: Remember how you used to search high and low for the perfect Valentine’s Day card? One of those decorative, doily type deals with lace and fancy trimmings. And the wording on the inside described a love eternal, a flame burning hot, and unbridled passion that would bring tears to any eye and yearning to all loins.After: Shit! You forgot what day it is. Now the store is all out of cards and you’ve only got minutes to spare to get something done. In a panic, you grab some paper and crayons and tell the kids to get busy. The result is a bunch of nonsensical scribbles or yet another tracing of their hands. On the inside is a hastily written “Happy Valentine’s Day! We love you!” And you know she can’t say anything to criticize it because then she’s a bad mom who doesn’t appreciate artwork from her kids. Because who needs those fancy store bought cards when this is from the heart??

Before: I remember one year, I believe it was our first Valentine’s Day, MJ went all out. She had candles lit and the room all decorated, and made a night just for me. In fact, she even put a whole bunch of Hershey’s Kisses on the ground, and told me it’s because she kisses the ground I walk on (no really, this happened!).After: The floor? Hahahaha!! No one has seen the floor in weeks because of all these toys.

Before: Speaking of chocolates, I used to get MJ divine candies for Valentine’s Day. Boxes of delicious little treats with who knows what kind of scrumptious filling inside. Which one am I holding now? Only one way to find out. Now let me seductively feed this to you in perfect, sexy little increments.After: Ummmmm…the store was out of chocolate. But I think I remember Sam dropped a half-eaten Peppermint Patty behind the couch. Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you — because romance.

Before: I have one word for you: massage. Ooooooh yeah, baby. You know what I’m talking about. I slowly undress you and lay you down on the bed. Then I get my array of oils and gently but firmly rub my hands all over your body. I massage you into a state of simultaneous relaxation and anticipation until neither one of us can take it any longer!After: Well, I guess a kid walking on your back kind of counts as a massage.

Before: That hip and fancy new tapas restaurant? You’re damn right I have reservations. I’ve had them for a month because I know how much you were looking forward to this. Order anything you want off the menu baby, tonight is your night. We’ll dine like royalty and then we’ll have “dessert” at home.After: Crap, we forgot to get a sitter and there are none available because it’s Valentine’s Day. Well, we could try going out to eat with the kids. Yeah, you’re right — terrible idea. Oh well, so should I order pizza or Chinese? Or how about leftovers??

Before: Sweet googly moogly, when I think back on what MJ was wearing during Valentine’s Day of old — yowza! She was dressed to the nines with full make-up, fancy earrings, a dress that makes men fall to their knees, and heels higher than Matthew McConaughey in Dazed & Confused. Like she stepped out of Vogue and onto the runway. Hell, even I managed to put on a suit and tie once in a while and flirt with looking dapper.After: She’s in yoga pants. I’m in pajamas. Will has a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle outfit on and Sam is sporting this season’s latest diaper trend from Target. Also, is that poop or chocolate on your sleeve? Yeah, you’re probably right. Best not to find out.

Before: Foreplay. When I think back on how much time we had before kids for all things related to sexy time — hellllloooooo nurse! Not to go all TMI on you, but most couples I know were like us. Enjoying being together for hours in various states of undress, taking your time, whispering sweet nothings, whispering dirty somethings, and generally letting the proverbial oven heat up until the timer goes DING!After: Foreplay consists of the brief moments before someone shouts “JUST HURRY UP AND FINISH, THE BABY IS WAKING UP!!!”

Before: Sex. Doin’ it. Gettin’ busy. The main event. After all, isn’t that what Valentine’s Day is REALLY about? All the fancy dinners, gifts, cards, etc. are really just a prelude to taking a trip to Funky Town. And couples with no kids can do that any time they want. Anywhere they want. At any volume they want. For so many, sex is the end all be all and if it’s good, then everything else is good.After: Hey parents, without thinking about it tell me which one of these you’d rather do — sleep together or be able to sleep in? Yeah, thought so.

Before: Think back to pre-kid times and try to remember what you did after sex on Valentine’s Day. I bet there was some cuddling and almost certainly some spooning. Whether you were big spoon or little spoon, you had time to reflect on the earth-rattling experience the two of you just created, while you breathe in her heavenly scent and feel his strong arms wrapped around you in a beautiful embrace.After: Get on your own side of the bed! Don’t you dare cross the unseen but very real border that separates us and maintains the delicate peace as we struggle to get scraps of sleep.

Before: At the end of a beautiful Valentine’s Day that consisted of looking our finest, eating an exquisite meal, receiving lovely cards and gifts, and was capped off by the best session of lovemaking EVER, what’s left to do? Chat for a bit about life while gently trailing off to sleep as we gaze into the wonder of each other’s eyes, naturally.After: Wanna binge-watch Netflix?

The first online parenting community I joined in 2008 almost kicked me out just for being a dad.

It was early 2008 and my wife was pregnant with Will. I didn’t even know what a dad blog was yet, and it would be several months before I’d become an official dad blogger. All I knew was I was about to become a dad and I had no information and a very small support network. So I went to BabyCenter and joined a birth board.

Finally I had a place to go online and talk with people going through the same thing due the same month. Some of them were second and third time parents as well, which allowed me to ask questions that would benefit me down the road. I jumped right in with both feet and asked questions and joined discussions, happy to have a place that finally made me feel like I wasn’t isolated.

Except I’d soon feel more alone than ever.

Suddenly there was talk of “spying” and other women who said they didn’t feel comfortable talking with a man in their presence. There was even a public debate about whether or not to hold a vote that would determine my fate in the group. Not only was I outraged, I was disappointed. The website catered to moms, sure, but it clearly said it was for “parents.” I was on the verge of telling them off once and for all and quitting the group before they could throw me out, when something pretty awesome happened.

A few of the moms contacted me privately and told me to hang in there. When I expressed how pissed I was, they said they understood but they also told me to take a breath and come at it from a different angle.

So instead of getting angry, I joined more conversations than ever. I started threads asking for help and advice, and I offered thoughtful comments when other people asked for help. In short, I made myself an active and attentive part of the community and soon most of the moms there saw that for themselves and came around to the idea of a man in their midst. Not everyone, mind you, but the overwhelming majority accepted me as an involved parent and I stayed in that group for several years.

So what’s the point? Sometimes parenting can feel like a judgmental contact sport played in the Thunder Dome.

“Oh you use disposable diapers? Well I just care about the environment too much to do that.”

“You know, most people who use formula just aren’t trying hard enough at breastfeeding.”

“I heard babies who use pacifiers have lower IQs.”

Look, this stuff is almost certainly going to happen at some point when you’re raising kids. And most involved dads can tell you more than a few stories about exclusion online, getting the stinkeye on the playground, and not being invited to playdates. But the trick I learned seven years ago still applies today, which is just keep plugging. Keep showing people you’re a dedicated parent. Keep being involved no matter what. Sure you could drop a bunch of insults and go nuclear (I’ve fallen down this rabbit hole in the past), but in the end the best comeback is killing them with kindness and making yourself look competent and positive. Eventually people will take notice and then they’ll take your side.

The proof is in the pudding.

Even seven years later, I’m still friends with a handful of moms from that birth board, and we’ve been there for one another as our kids have grown up.

And as far as dads making progress, if you watched the Super Bowl this year you probably noticed dads finally made the marketing big time and have worked our way into the larger conversation. How did that happen? Years of involved fathers publicly embracing the shifting landscape of modern masculinity, making fatherhood a priority, and positively speaking up until we began getting a seat at the table.

Take this very promotion. Similac has invited me (a dad) to take part in a campaign that’s ordinarily been mom-only. More than that, they recognized the importance of including dads by including the #ParentsFirst hashtag.

So when you find yourself in the crosshairs of parental judgment and you feel like lashing out, just remember you’re better than the people taking their insecurities out on you. And if you choose to highlight your positive traits, others will see you shine and join you.

***********

I was compensated by Similac for the “Sisterhood of Motherhood” campaign, which aims to unite all parents in a judgment-free zone. But as always, all thoughts and opinions are my own. I hope you enjoy this fantastic video Similac developed that shows we’re all #ParentsFirst when it comes to raising our kids.

I want you to imagine you’re at a restaurant, with your kids, and a man walks inside holding a paper bag.

He orders some food and sits down at a nearby table. Then, without warning, the man opens the paper bag and you see it is full of shit. Yup, that’s right. I’m talking actual human feces out in the open where you and your family are eating. He closes the bag up quickly but you’ve already seen it and the smell of piss and crap is now wafting through the air. Outrageous, right? If you’re anything like me, you’d complain to the manager immediately to have this guy removed. Human excrement in a dining area? Disgusting!

Now, replace the man with a mother and the paper bag with a diaper, and that’s exactly what happened in Texas earlier this week.

Miranda Sowers and her three daughters, including a 3-month-old, were at a neighborhood pizza joint when the infant dropped a stink bomb in her diaper. Sowers went to the bathroom, but there was no changing table. Not wanting to pack her family up, she decided the best course of action was to change her diaper right there at the table, on one of the chairs, near where other patrons were eating.

Understandably, people complained to the manager and Sowers was given her food in a to-go container and asked to leave. Yet amazingly, she felt SHE was the one who was wronged, and ultimately decided to file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau, as well as alert the press.

Let’s get one thing straight — what Sowers did is disgusting and wrong.

Not only is it unsanitary to introduce feces to an eating environment, it’s also incredibly rude and unnecessary. There were other people eating around mom and her clan, yet because she was displeased with the lack of a changing station (a reasonable criticism, by the way), she went ahead and polluted everyone else’s lunch that day.

It is never the right move to open up a poop-filled diaper where everyone is eating. Ever. Excrement + Eating Area = No. Yet when I put this story on Facebook, I had an even bigger surprise — a number of parents defending Sowers! Check out some of the comments:

“I think we should not judge since mommies have baby brain at 4 months pospartum (sic).”

“The restaurant needs to take care of business and put in changing tables, or have a sign that says don’t bring your kids here.”

“I changed LO at the booth in chipotles on out (sic) way back from NC because they didn’t have a changing table in the bathroom. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.”

“ I would’ve done exactly as she did. And then never go there again, because obviously they don’t think parents make up enough of their clientèle to warrant a place for their childrens bathroom needs to be met, even though I’m pretty sure it is a health code violation to not have a changing table for this exact reason. She was right in reporting them. Maybe the dumbass in charge will figure it out.”

Wow. I mean…WOW! I’m not stunned and speechless often, but the fact that anyone was defending this mom and blaming the restaurant, well…it threw me. A lot.

Now let’s get down to brass tacks.

I don’t think it’s out of bounds to politely inquire as to the absence of a changing station in the bathroom. Key word: politely. But that having been said, restaurants are not (and should not be) required to cater to one certain group. If you don’t like it, you have the option to dine elsewhere and if enough people speak with their wallets, the message will be received.

But the main thing I want to talk about is regarding where she should’ve changed the baby absent a changing station in the bathroom.

Moms may not realize this, but the one thing dads get really good at really quickly, is learning how to change a diaper in suboptimal conditions. Because even when you find a restaurant with a changing station in the ladies room, chances are there isn’t a matching one in the men’s room. So we need to make it work however we can, and that ain’t always pretty (or easy).

So what should Sowers have done when forced to think like a dad? The easiest thing to do, if it applies to you, is go back out to the car. I’ve changed diapers on every seat and in the back. It’s easy, it’s only messing up your own stuff, and you’re not bothering anyone else. If you don’t have a car (or the car isn’t available for some reason), then I would try the bathroom counter. If that’s not feasible, then you suck it up, throw the changing pad (yes, she had one with her) on the cleanest part of the floor you can find, and make it quick.

What you should never do, under any circumstances, is introduce human fecal matter into the same vicinity where people are eating. And if you do have an unfortunate mental lapse and proceed to be rude and disgusting, you should not blame the restaurant. The restaurant is not responsible for you or your kids, and it is not responsible for how you dispose of dirty diapers. That is YOUR responsibility as a parent.

When the hell did some parents become this entitled?

Having kids doesn’t mean the world should cater to us. It doesn’t mean every business needs to be prepared to meet our needs. And it certainly doesn’t mean we have the right to gross people out with our kids’ bodily functions during meals, simply because we didn’t plan ahead.

Upset about the absence of changing tables? Leave.
Need to change a diaper? Find a way to do it that doesn’t affect everyone else.
Feel unwelcome? Find a more family-friendly restaurant.

But don’t screw up in a mind-bogglingly discourteous way and then turn around and blame someone else for your stupid mistake. That’s the kind of stuff that gives all parents a bad name. We’re better than that.

She was probably 13 or 14 years old. Clad in black skinny jeans and forlornly meandering about, she pulled her tattered hoodie over her jet black pixie cut and walked away from us as quickly as her Chuck Taylor low tops would carry her.

But not before I noticed that in addition to way too much mascara, her eyes were red and swollen with tears.

A crying teenager seemed so out of place considering the night we were enjoying.